


Pleading Insanity

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluffy and more fluff, M/M, My early writing, POV Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 14:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: An earlier work when I'd just started watching BBC Sherlock. It is wordy, fluffy, sweet and short.





	Pleading Insanity

Love blossomed in the infertile heart of Sherlock Holmes. Seeds were never sown, soil never tilled and yet the purple root of passion took hold. The phantom rains fell and the sunlight of John’s smile became the creator of a devotion that Sherlock had never known. He found love in the midnight blue eyes of his doctor, his soldier, his colleague, his friend. Now Sherlock couldn’t imagine not having John at his side; always and forever John must be at his side.

Love is that disastrous disadvantage, that cunning dissolution of logic, reason and mind. How fragile the filaments of thought that could be destroyed utterly by that little word, that tiny emotion. Desire bridges the distances between them. Sherlock is sure that he can feel John’s heartbeat at any given moment in time; can feel John breathing against his own ribs, he has mapped those weathered lines on John’s face and can draw them from memory in the pitch black of night. Sherlock’s heart is encrusted now with yearning, with emotions so alien to him that it is like having his DNA coding overwritten. He is dissolving into random thoughts that burn painfully with new found desire and tantalize with pleasures not yet felt.

What would it be like to be more than just friends, more than mere partners in solving the mystery of murder? John is the ultimate mystery, the one that Sherlock can never find a resolution to, though he would always, always want to keep trying. He so desperately wants more, but he is so inexperienced in this whole love relationship thing. Sherlock has read about positions, placement and paraphernalia, but knows that love is not in books and the words of others. Love is John and John is love.

It is making Sherlock crazy; this constant internal struggle to find an answer, to get closer to John without driving him away. John is bi-sexual. He’d known the first night at Angelo’s when he’d so blithely thrown away any chance he’d had at being more to John when he’d said he was married to his work. He’d screwed that one up royally. He’d seen the desire in John’s eyes and simply dismissed it. Walked over it, through it and now he lamented those words and that affront. He lamented with all his newly imagined heart.

He laid on the couch, motionless, thoughts circling his brain like an airport with not enough run ways and shite too many planes. His hands clasped together, steepled under his chin. He can feel John puttering about the flat. Working at his PC, making tea, doing laundry in the laundry room, doing all those little domestic things, making everything clean and tidy; coordinating everything, making order out of chaos, bringing contentment out of loneliness. John is so necessary now. Not only for his friendship, but because he makes Sherlock more, so much more. His deductions, his clarity, his mind is blindingly more sensitive. The light that John casts into the shadows of Sherlock’s brain is brilliant like a conduit of intense understanding and unstoppable truth.

At the same time it is going to kill Sherlock if he can’t find the courage in his heart to say the words that need to be said. Why in hell couldn’t he do that? He was afraid, afraid after having turned John’s attentions away that he, too, would now be rebuffed. That would be only fair turnabout, wouldn’t it?

Logically, though, that wasn’t John’s way. He wouldn’t do that, would he? John wasn’t that kind of person, he was kind, knowledgeable and well, quirky, but not someone to hold grudges or be in dark moods. That was Sherlock’s bailiwick and even those dark moods didn’t descend on Sherlock that much anymore.

“John,” Sherlock said as John made another pass into the kitchen to butter some toast and brew some more delightful tasty tea.

“Yes, Sherlock.”

“Can you come here, please?”

John left tea and toast, coming to sit on the coffee table right next to Sherlock. It is very seldom that Sherlock uses the ‘P’ word. So something is important, he drops everything to pay attention to Sherlock.

“You have told me on more than one occasion that there is nothing that I could say or do, nothing from my past that would ever make you leave me.”

“Yes, I remember, Sherlock.”

{John looks serenely calm and so very cuddly} thinks Sherlock. His mind begins extrapolating on the cuddliness of John and blood starts flowing into all the wrong places. He feels his whole mind fill with thoughts that are highly inappropriate and distressingly hot. He takes a massive deep breath and looks into midnight blue eyes that turn him inside out and upside down.

“John, I am having inappropriate thoughts.”

“Since when has that ever stopped you from voicing your opinions?” John is deeply bemused.

Sherlock takes his right hand and places it directly upon John’s denim covered crotch. 

“Yes, ah, fine.” John feels his body respond in ways that are totally natural between intimates. “Well I think we can kick inappropriate completely out the window and…” 

Sherlock’s talented fingers began playing his new instrument of choice at the moment and John finds his mind incapable of anything that resembles intelligent thought.

Sherlock grabs John’s shirt pulling his bone-less and easily manipulated flatmate to lie atop him. Placing a rather delicious and mutually enjoyable kiss upon his willing lips.

“I hope that you will find it in your heart to accept my apologies, John. I’m not married to my work. In fact I am here pleading insanity and throwing myself upon your tender mercies. I would like more than anything else to be married to you, John.” The vulnerable, ‘I’m going to break apart if you reject me’ look that Sherlock gives John is heartbreaking. 

“Sherlock,” John says, love shining from his eyes. “I knew you’d get there. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Of course, I will accept your insanity plea, your unorthodox proposal and I love you. You are the madman of my every dream.”

Melting into the couch, bringing John with him in kiss after searing kiss. The two ‘friends’ are finally filled with a mutually satisfying love, no longer sequestered away in longing hearts. Now those hearts over flow with love and lust which can finally be satisfied. They leave a trail of discarded clothing to mark their movement into ‘their’ bedroom. Naked at last, they tumble into the incredible large and tranquil bed that will become their love nest for the rest of all time.


End file.
